Heidi (1899)/Part 1/Chapter 7

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When Heidi awoke, on her first morning in Frankfurt, she could not understand what she saw. She rubbed her eyes hard, then looked up again; everything was the same. She was sitting in a high white bed in a large room; where the light came in, hung long, long white curtains; near by stood two chairs with large flowers on them; then there was a sofa with the same flowers, and a round table in front of it, and in the corner was a wash-stand on which were things that Heidi had never seen before.

Suddenly she remembered that she was in Frankfurt, and everything that had happened the day before came back to her mind; and finally she recalled quite clearly the lady's instructions, as far as she had heard them.

Heidi jumped from the bed and dressed herself. She went first to one window and then to the other, for she wanted to see the sky and earth outside; she felt as if she were in a cage behind the long curtains. She could not push them aside, so she crawled in behind them in order to reach the window. But this was so high that her head hardly came up far enough to let her see out. Heidi did not find what she was looking ​for. She ran from one window to the other and then back again; but there was always the same thing before her eyes,—walls and windows, and then walls and then windows again.

This puzzled her. It was still early in the morning, for she was accustomed to rise betimes on the Alm, and then to run outdoors immediately to see if the sky was blue and the sun already up; if the fir trees were murmuring, and the blue flowers had opened their eyes. As a little bird, placed for the first time in a handsome, glittering cage, flies back and forth and tries every bar to see if it cannot slip between and fly out and regain its freedom, so Heidi kept running from one window to the other, trying to open them, for she felt that there must be something to be seen besides walls and windows; she felt sure that the ground underneath, with the green grass and the last melting snow on the cliffs, must come into sight, and she longed to see it.

But the windows remained firmly closed, no matter how hard the child tugged and pulled and tried to get her little fingers under the sash. After some time, when she found that her exertions were of no avail, she gave up the plan and wondered how it would be if she were to go outdoors and around behind the house until she should come to some grass, for she remembered that the evening before she had walked over nothing but stones in front of the house. There was a knock at the door, and Tinette immediately thrust her head in and said curtly:—

​"Breakfast 's ready!"

Heidi did not in the least understand that these words meant an invitation; Tinette's scornful face seemed to warn her not to come too near her rather than to give a friendly summons, and Heidi understood this and acted accordingly. She took the little foot-stool out from under the table, placed it in a corner, sat down on it, and waited to see what would happen. After some time she heard a bustling, and Fräulein Rottenmeier, again in a state of irritation, came and called into Heidi's room:—

"What is the matter with you, Adelheid? Don't you understand what breakfast means? Come down!"

Heidi understood this, and at once followed her.

Klara had been sitting some time in her place in the dining-room and gave Heidi a friendly greeting. She looked much more contented than usual, for she expected all sorts of strange things to happen that day. The breakfast passed without any disturbance; Heidi ate her bread and butter properly enough, and after the meal was over Klara was rolled back into the library. Heidi was bidden by Fräulein Rottenmeier to follow and remain with Klara until the Herr Kandidat came to begin the lessons. When the two children were alone Heidi said at once:—

"How do you see outdoors and 'way down to the ground here?"

"We open the window and look out," replied Klara, amused at the question.

"But the windows don't open," said Heidi sadly.

​"Well! well!" exclaimed Klara, "you can't open them, and I can't help you; but when you see Sebastian, he will open one for you."

It was a great relief to Heidi to know that the windows could open and that she could look out, for her room had seemed to her like a prison.

Klara then began to ask Heidi about her home; and Heidi was delighted to tell her about the Alm, the goats, and the pasture, and everything she was so fond of.

In the mean time the Herr Kandidat arrived; but Fräulein Rottenmeier did not take him as usual into the library, for she wished to talk with him first, and so asked him into the dining-room, where she sat down in front of him, and in great excitement described her embarrassing situation, and how it had come about.

She had written some time before to Herr Sesemann in Paris, where he was staying, that his daughter had for a long time desired to have a companion in the house, and that she herself believed that it would be an incentive to Klara in the study hours, and give her stimulating society the rest of the time. In reality the plan was a very desirable one for Fräulein Rottenmeier herself, as she was anxious to have some one there to relieve her from entertaining the sick girl—a task which was often too much for her. Herr Sesemann had replied that he would willingly grant his daughter's wish, but with the condition that her playmate should be in every way as Klara's equal; for he would have no children tormented in his house—"a really very unneces​sary remark from Herr Sesemann, for who wants to torment children?"

She then went on to tell the Herr Kandidat how terribly disappointed she had been in the child, and related all the strange things she had done since she had been in the house, proving not only that he would have literally to begin his instruction with the alphabet, but that she, too, had to commence at the very beginning in every kind of training. She saw only one way out of these unfortunate circumstances, and that was for the Herr Kandidat to declare that two children so different could not be taught together without great harm to the advanced pupil; this would be a sufficient reason to Herr Sesemann for putting an end to the matter and allowing the child to be immediately sent back where she came from; she would not dare to undertake this without his consent, because the master of the house knew that the child had come.

But the Herr Kandidat was very discreet and never one-sided in his judgment.

He spoke many consoling words to Fräulein Rottenmeier and gave the opinion that if the young girl was backward in one way she might be so advanced in other ways that with well-regulated instruction they would be brought into harmony. When Fräulein Rottenmeier saw that the Herr Kandidat did not favor her, but would undertake to teach A-B-C's, she opened the door into the library for him, and after he had gone in closed it quickly behind him and remained on the other side, for she had a horror of A-B-C's.

​She strode up and down the room, considering how the servants should address Adelheid. Herr Sesemann had written that she must be treated as his daughter; and this command had to be carried out, especially in regard to the servants, thought Fräulein Rottenmeier. But she was not able to meditate long without interruption, for suddenly from the library came a frightful crash as of something falling, and then a call to Sebastian for help. She rushed into the room. There on the floor everything lay in a heap—books, copy-books, inkstand, and on top of all the rest the table-cover, from underneath which a stream of ink flowed across the whole length of the room.

Heidi had disappeared.

"Just look at that!" exclaimed Fräulein Rottenmeier, wringing her hands. "Table-cover, books, and work-basket, all in the ink! Such a thing never happened before! There's no doubt about it, it is that wretched creature!"

The Herr Kandidat stood in perfect dismay gazing at the destruction which could be regarded only in one light, as very disturbing. Klara, on the other hand, watched the unusual occurrence and its result with a look of perfect delight and simply said by way of explanation:—

"Yes, Heidi did it, but not on purpose; she really must not be blamed; she was only in such a fearful hurry to get away, and pulled the cover with her, and so everything fell with it to the floor. Several carriages went by, one after the other, so she rushed out; perhaps she had never seen a coach before."

​"There, isn't it just as I told you, Herr Kandidat? The creature hasn't an idea about anything! not a suspicion what a lesson hour is, that she ought to sit still and listen. But where is the unlucky child? If she has run away, what would Herr Sesemann say to me?"

Fräulein Rottenmeier darted out and down the stairs. There in the open doorway stood Heidi, looking, quite perplexed, up and down the street.

"What is it? What is the matter with you? Why have you run away?" demanded Fräulein Rottenmeier of the little girl.

"I heard the fir trees roar, but I don't know where they are, and I don't hear them any longer," answered Heidi, looking blankly in the direction where the rolling of the carriages had died away, a noise which in Heidi's ears seemed like the raging of the wind in the firs, so that she had followed the sound in the highest glee.

"Firs! Are we in the woods? What a notion! Come up and see what you have done!"

Whereupon Fräulein Rottenmeier went upstairs again; Heidi followed her and was very much astonished to see the great damage done, for in her delight and haste to hear the fir trees she had not noticed what she was dragging after her.

"You have done that once you must not do it again," said Fräulein Rottenmeier, pointing to the floor; "when you are having lessons you must sit still in your chair and pay attention. If you cannot do it by your​self, I shall have to fasten you to your seat. Do you understand?"

"Yes," replied Heidi, "and I will sit still now"; for she began to comprehend what she was expected to do.

Tinette and Sebastian by this time had to come to put the room in order, and the Herr Kandidat went away, for all further teaching had to be given up. There had been no excuse for yawning that morning.

In the afternoon Klara always had to rest a long time, and Heidi could then busy herself as she pleased; so Fräulein Rottenmeier had explained to her in the morning. When Klara had lain down to rest in her chair after dinner, Fräulein Rottenmeier went to her room. Heidi was glad to have the time to herself, for she had in her mind a plan which she was anxious to undertake, but she would be obliged to have help about it. Therefore she placed herself in the middle of the hall, in front of the dining-room, in order that the person she wished to see might not escape her. Sure enough, in a little while Sebastian came up the stairs with the large tea tray, bringing the silver up from the kitchen to put away in the china closet. When. he reached the last stair Heidi stepped up to him, saying:—

"I would like to ask you something," and added, as if to pacify him, "but it is really not wrong, as it was this morning"; for she noticed that he looked a little cross, and she thought it was on account of the ink on the carpet.

Sebastian then laughed so loud that Heidi looked ​at him in amazement, for she had n't noticed anything amusing.

"All right, go ahead, Mamsell."

"My name is n't Mamsell," said Heidi, a little vexed in her turn; "my name is Heidi."

"That's all right; Fräulein Rottenmeier told me to call you so," explained Sebastian.

"Did she? Well, then, I must be called so," said Heidi resignedly; for she had noticed that everything had to be as Fräulein Rottenmeier said.

"Now I have three names," she added with a sigh.

"What did the little Mamsell want to ask?" said Sebastian as he went into the dining-room and was putting away the silver in the closet.

"How do you open the windows, Sebastian?"

"This way," he replied, pushing up one of the large windows.

Heidi went to it, but she was too small to be able to see anything; she reached only to the window sill.

"There; now the little girl can look out and see what there is below," said Sebastian, bringing a high wooden stool and setting it down. Heidi climbed up with great delight, and was able at last to take the longed-for look out the window. But she immediately drew her head in, evidently much disappointed.

"There is nothing to see at all but the stony street," said the child mournfully; "if you go clear round the house, what do you see on the other side, Sebastian?"

"Just the same," was the answer.

​"But where do you go to see way down across the whole valley?"

"You have to climb up into some high church tower, like the one over there with the golden dome above it. From up there you can see away off ever so far."

Then Heidi quickly climbed down from the stool, ran out of the door, down the stairs, and went out into the street. But she did not find it as she imagined it would be. When she saw the tower through the window, she fancied she would only have to go across the street and it would be just in front of her. She went down the entire length of the street, but without coming to the tower, and she could no longer see it anywhere; and she came to another street and then another, and so on, but still she did not see the tower. A great many persons passed her, but they were all in such a hurry that Heidi thought they had no time to tell her anything about it. Finally she saw a boy standing on the corner of the next street; he was carrying a small hand organ on his back and a very strange animal in his arms. Heidi ran up to him and asked:—

"Where is the tower with the golden dome at the very top?"

"Don't know," was the answer.

"Who can tell me then where it is?" asked Heidi again.

"Don't know."

"Don't you know any other church with a high tower?"

"Certainly I know one."

"Come and show me where it is."

​"Show me first what you will give me if I do."

The boy held out his hand. Heidi searched in her pocket. She drew out a little picture, on which was painted a garland of red roses; she looked at it for a little while, for she disliked to part with it. That very morning Klara had given it to her; but to look down into the valley, across the green slopes!

"There," said Heidi, holding out the picture to him; "will you take that?"

The boy drew his hand back and shook his head.

"What do you want, then?" asked Heidi, delighted to put her picture back into her pocket.

"Money."

"I haven't any, but Klara has, and she will give me some; how much do you want?"

"Twenty pfennigs."

"Well, then, come along."

The two accordingly went through a long street, and on the way Heidi asked her companion what he was carrying on his back, and he explained that under the cloth he had an organ which made wonderful music when he turned the handle. Suddenly they came to an old church with a high tower; the boy stood still and said:—

"There!"

"But how can I get in?" asked Heidi when she found that the doors were closed.

"Don't know," was the answer.

"Do you think I could ring here as I do for Sebastian?"

​"Don't know."

Heidi had noticed a bell in the wall and now pulled it with all her might.

"If I go up there you must wait down here, for I don't know the way back, and you must show me."

"What will you give me if I do?"

"What shall I have to give you, then?"

"Twenty pfennigs more."

A key was turned in the old lock on the inside, and the creaking door opened; an old man stepped out and looked at first surprised and then rather angrily at the children and said:—

"How did you dare to ring for me to come down? Can't you read what it says under the bell? For those who wish to ascend the tower."

The boy pointed to Heidi and said not a word.

Heidi replied: "I want to go up into the tower."

"What do you want to do up there?" asked the tower-keeper. "Did some one send you here?"

"No," answered Heidi. "I only want to go up so that I can look down."

"Go home, and don't play any more tricks on me, or you won't get off so easily another time!" Where-upon the tower-keeper turned round and was about to shut the door, but Heidi held him by the coat-tail and said pleadingly:—

"Only just this once!"

He looked around, and Heidi's eyes gazed up at him so beseechingly that he quite changed his mind; he took hold of the child's hand and said in a kindly tone:—

​"If you are so anxious to go, come with me."

The boy sat down on the stone step in front of the door and signified that he did not care to go with them.

Heidi, holding the tower-keeper's hand, climbed many, many steps, which grew smaller and smaller; finally she went up an extremely narrow staircase, and then she was at the top. The keeper lifted Heidi up and held her to the open window.

"There, now look down," he said.

Heidi saw below her a sea of roofs, towers, and chimneys. She drew her head back quickly and said in a tone of disappointment:—

"It is not at all what I thought it would be."

"Is that so? What does a little girl like you know about a view? Well, now come down, and don't ring at a church door again!"

The keeper put Heidi on the floor and started down the narrow stairs in front of her. On the left, where they began to grow wider, there was a door which opened into the keeper's room; close by, where the floor extended out under the sloping roof, stood a large basket, and in front of it sat a big gray cat, growling, for in the basket lived her family, and she wished to warn every passer-by not to disturb her domestic arrangements. Heidi stood still and looked amazed, for she had never seen such a huge cat before; in the old tower there lived whole flocks of mice, so the cat had no difficulty in catching half a dozen little ones every day.

The tower-keeper noticed Heidi's surprise and said:—

​"Come, you may look at the kittens; she won't hurt you while I am here."

Heidi went toward the basket and screamed with delight.

"Oh, the cunning little creatures! the lovely kittens!" she exclaimed again and again, running back and forth around the basket, in order to watch the amusing frolic and play of seven or eight little kittens as they crawled and jumped and tumbled over one another.

"Would you like one?" asked the tower-keeper, pleased to see Heidi dance with delight.

"For my own? To keep always?" asked Heidi, excited and hardly able to believe in such good luck.

"Yes, to be sure; you can have more than one—you can have them all, if you have room for them," said the man, glad of a chance to dispose of the kittens without having to harm them. Heidi was highly delighted. The kittens would have so much room in the big house, and how surprised and pleased Klara would be when the pretty creatures arrived!

"But how can I carry them?" asked Heidi, and was going to take some of them up in her hands at once, but the big cat jumped up on her arm and growled so fiercely that she drew back greatly frightened.

"I will bring them to you, only tell me where," said the keeper, stroking the old cat to make her good-natured again, for she was his friend and had lived in the tower with him for a good many years.

​"To Herr Sesemann's big house. There is a golden head of a dog with a big ring in his mouth on the front door," explained Heidi.

This detail was superfluous, for the tower-keeper had sat in the tower for many long years and knew every house far and wide; besides, Sebastian was an old acquaintance of his.

"I know where it is," he remarked; "but whom shall I bring the things to, and whom shall I ask for? You don't belong to Herr Sesemann, do you?"

"No; but Klara will be so delighted to have the kittens!"

The tower-keeper was ready to go on down the stairs, but Heidi could hardly tear herself away from the entertaining spectacle.

"If I could only carry one or two with me—one for myself and one for Klara! Why can't I?"

"Well, wait a little," said the keeper; and he carried the old cat carefully into his little room, put her into the cupboard, shut the door, and came back: "There, now take two!"

Heidi's eyes shone with delight. She chose a white kitten and a striped yellow and white one, and put one in her right pocket and the other in the left. Then she went down the stairs.

​The boy was still sitting on the steps outside, and when the keeper had closed the door after Heidi she said:—

"Which is the way to Herr Sesemann's house?"

"Don't know," was the answer.

Heidi then began to describe, as well as she knew how, about the front door, the windows, and the steps; but the boy shook his head; he knew nothing about it.

"You see," Heidi went on, "out of one window you look at a big, big gray house, and the roof goes so"; and with her forefinger she described a sharp point in the air.

Then the boy jumped up; all he needed was some such sign in order to find the way. He started off on the run and Heidi after him, and in a short time they stood directly in front of the door with the big brass knocker. Heidi rang the bell. Sebastian soon appeared, and when he saw Heidi he exclaimed urgently:—

"Quick! quick!"

Heidi ran in in great haste, and Sebastian closed the door; he had not noticed the boy standing disappointed outside.

"Quick, Mamsell!" urged Sebastian again; "go right into the dining-room; they are already at the table. Fräulein Rottenmeier looks like a loaded cannon; but what made the little Mamsell run away so?"

Heidi went into the dining-room. Fräulein Rottenmeier did not look up, and Klara said nothing; there was an uncomfortable silence. Sebastian pushed up ​Heidi's chair. When she was once seated in her place, Fräulein Rottenmeier began with a stern face and a very solemn voice:—

"Adelheid, I will talk with you later; now I have only this to say you have behaved very badly, and really deserve to be punished for leaving the house without asking permission, without any one knowing a thing about it, and wandering about until so late in the day; I never heard of such conduct."

"Meow," sounded as the apparent answer.

Then the lady grew angry:—

"What, Adelheid," she exclaimed, raising her voice, "after such behavior, do you dare to play a naughty trick? You had better be very careful, I assure you!"

"I did n't," began Heidi.

"Meow! meow!"

Sebastian put his tray down on the table and rushed out of the room.

"That is enough," Fräulein Rottenmeier tried to say; but she was so excited that her voice no longer sounded. "Get up and leave the room!"

Heidi, much frightened, rose from her chair and tried once more to explain.

"I really did n't"—

"Meow! meow! meow!"

"But, Heidi," said Klara, "when you see how angry you are making Fräulein Rottenmeier, why do you keep saying 'meow'?"

"I am not doing it; it is the kittens," Heidi at last was able to say without interruption.

​"What? what? cats? kittens?" screamed Fräulein Rottenmeier. "Sebastian! Tinette! Find the horrible creatures and take them away!"

Whereupon the lady rushed into the library and fastened the door in order to be safe, for to Fräulein Rottenmeier kittens were the most dreadful things in the world. Sebastian was standing outside the door and had to stop laughing before he could enter the room again. While he was serving Heidi, he had noticed a little cat's head peeping out of her pocket, and when it began to meow he could hardly contain himself long enough to set his tray on the table. At last he was able to go back calmly into the room, some time after the distressed lady had called for help. Everything was then perfectly quiet and peaceful; Klara was holding the kittens in her lap, Heidi was kneeling by her side, and both were playing to their great delight with the two tiny, graceful creatures.

"Sebastian," said Klara as he entered, "you must help us; you must find a bed for the kittens where Fräulein Rottenmeier will not see them, for she is afraid of them, and will have them taken away; we want to keep the cunning things and bring them out whenever we are alone. Where can you put them?"

"I will take care of them, Fräulein Klara," replied Sebastian willingly; "I will make a fine bed for them in a basket, and put it where the timid lady will never come; just leave it all to me."

Sebastian went on with his work, chuckling to himself all the while, for he thought: "This isn't the last ​of it!" and he did not at all dislike to see Fräulein Rottenmeier a little distressed.

Some time after, when it was almost time to go to bed, Fräulein Rottenmeier opened the door a very little way and called through the crack:—

"Have the horrible creatures been taken away?"

"Yes, indeed! Yes, indeed!" answered Sebastian, who had kept busy in the room, expecting this question. Quickly and quietly he took the two kittens out of Klara's lap and disappeared with them.

Fräulein Rottenmeier deferred until the following day the especial scolding which she had intended to give Heidi; for she felt too exhausted that night, after all the preceding emotions of vexation, anger, and fright, which in turn Heidi had unconsciously provoked in her. She drew back in silence, and Klara and Heidi followed quite content, for they knew their kittens were in a good bed.